Ruby looked at the huge castle-like estate in front of her.
The Sterling's House of Thorns. The rumored prison that was said to have kept the cursed mad prince in check for years.
She held her breath and approached the gates, her eyes soon drawn to the two masked guards standing behind.
The guards seemed to have noticed her presence as well as they simultaneously snapped their necks towards her, silently scrutinizing her from behind their ghost-like mask.
Ruby was nearly scared out of her wits. She toughened herself and opened her mouth, "Excuse me–"
"Scram! Beggars aren't allowed to go inside!"
The two masked guards shouted in unison, their stances intimidating.
"But–" Ruby was full of grievances. She tried to reason, but was instantly interrupted once more.
"Enough! Do we look like charity to you? Go! Return to wherever hole you belong!" One of the guards raised his voice as he pointed his sharp weapon towards her.
Ruby was instantly intimidated. Timidly, she returned to the shrub where she supposedly belonged. She knew that her unkempt looks and rag-like dress were anything but convincing but still, she couldn't help but grumble under her breath.
"What the hell is wrong with those two and their ghostly masks?? It isn't even Halloween yet! Who are they trying to give the creeps?"
Ruby rubbed her weary eyes. Despite the fatigue, she forcefully moved her limbs to check on the Nanny's condition.
The wound on the Nanny's forehead wasn't deep, but the running fever that refused to go down was worrying. On top of that, the Nanny hadn't regained her consciousness just yet.
Considering her old age, Ruby feared that it would turn into a life-threatening matter if the old woman didn't receive proper treatment on time.
'What to do? What to do?'
Ruby bit her lips, her eyes unintendedly falling onto the not-so-tall walls.
5 minutes later, Ruby stood on the thickest branch of the tallest tree she could find. She looked to the distance, gulping as she regulated her breathing.
"Relax, Ruby. It's just a meter or two at most, not as if this is your first time. Tree-climbing has always been your forte, what more of a simple wall-jumping as this? You can do it, Ruby!"
With that, she took a leap of blind faith… and slipped.
The day was yet another ordinary day with nothing special to be written in his daily reflection.
The said 'mad' Fourth Prince Julien Sterling strolled around the mansion with nothing but the intention of relieving himself from all the pent-up stress, when a certain monkey suddenly fell from the sky.
"..."
What bad luck.
*An Hour Ago*
Julien woke up to the sound of flurried knocks against his door. He raised a hand to support his throbbing head, his temper flaring as he unceremoniously hurled an empty bottle against the shaking door.
"Scram!!"
Following after the loud shatters of glass was pin-drop silence.
Finally, peace. Julien closed his eyes, about to sink back into another one of his sweet dreams, when the door suddenly swung apart.
"Master, there's an emergency! Please pardon me–"
Julien's peaceful expression cracked. He didn't remember voicing his permission yet. Furious veins popped against his pale skin as his fingers moved to grab at another empty bottle, ready to hurl it straight to the jackass.
But then, he recognized the voice—it was his most trusted attendant and right-hand man, Mario. His vile impulse paused.
As light breached into the pitch-black room, bringing what little hope and dreams into the whole space of depression, he saw Mario strode in with a platter in his hand.
Mario's figure was tall and lean. And when dressed in neat suits and an equally spotless white mask, he looked just like one of those mysterious main characters from the movies, so full of charm and charisma. If only he wasn't born with a bitchy mouth.
"Master, I've brought over your hangover cure. And also, I think you'll be adding another dead wife to the collection."
Julien had just climbed up the bedpost and received his bowl of hangover cure, downing them in big gulps, when he nearly choked at Mario's careless word of choice.
"What did you just say, Mario?"
Julien thought that he might have heard him wrong, but Mario didn't hesitate to repeat himself with an even more impassive expression.
"Sir, Ms Montclair has been attacked. It had been 4 hours since the incident happened and not one body, neither the assailants nor the victims, were found in the location—the team concluded that the madam was most probably dead by now, her corpse taken care of somewhere along the road." Mario ended his report.
A slight pause ensued, as if Julien had a hard time processing what he had just heard. But obviously, that wasn't true as Mario heard him mumble in a low voice.
"Again. Is it… the 15th?" Julien mouthed with uncertainty. Mario shook his head as if he had expected his master's confusion.
"It's the 17th," Mario corrected. "Sir, should I inform the bride's family and arrange for the 17th Madam's funeral?"
Mario was still as impassive as ever. However, inwardly, he thought. They should be able to save quite a sum since they'll be holding the 15th, 16th, and 17th Madam's funeral together.
"Not yet." Julien voiced out his disagreement, his eyebrows frowning as he gave his orders, "First, we should at least retrieve the corpse to give the family a proper explanation. Although the Montclairs were a mere family of merchants, we can't afford to be careless and risk complicating the matter."
"Yes." Mario nodded. He was so used to this that he almost knew what he should do next. Investigate, make a report, arrange amendments, and bear the blame for being a part of the cursed fourth household.
Another black pot to carry. When will this all end? Mario sighed, deprived in and out. Perhaps, only after his master gave up on the idea of getting a wife will his evil brothers finally relent and cut them some slack.
"Also, send more of our men to investigate the incident. I want the important details in one hour."
"Yes, yes…"
Mario repeatedly nodded, as agreeable as a pecking chicken.
"About the media…"
"I've dealt with them before coming over, Sir."
Mario impeccably answered, living up to his five digit income.
"...Hand me a shirt."
"Yes—"
Mario suddenly choked midway as if he had a fish bone stuck to his throat. 'That's not part of the routine,' he thought.
"May I ask if you're going out today, Sir?" Mario immediately blurted out.
"I just need a breath of fresh air. Mario, the shirt." Julien reminded, the impatience in his tone a ticking bomb he couldn't afford to set off.
"Y-Yes! I'll clear the area for you, Sir!"
Mario scurried through the wardrobe. Behind him, he heard Julien speak again, his voice low as a hum.
"No need, just make sure their masks are on. I don't wish to see any blood spilled."
Mario's hands paused, a sense of chill crawling up his spine. The master seemed to be in a bad mood today, not that it ever came close to anything good.
Anyway, he should remind the others to pay extra attention. Mario left with the important notice in mind.